All Flesh is Grass
by Claerwen
Summary: Viradecthis Steiner, a recent high school graduate, moves to Italy in hopes of attending college there. The job she lands herself with first...is a job with the Volturi. All flesh is grass is a much quoted phrase meaning human life is transitory.
1. Chapter 1

Viradecthis Steiner, a recent high school graduate, moves to Italy in hopes of attending college there, and getting away from the only family she's ever had: her grandparents. The job she lands herself with first...is a job with the Volturi: replacing Gianna.

* * *

_All Flesh is Grass_

**"'All flesh is grass'** is a much quoted phrase interpreted to mean that human life is transitory. It has been used as the title for various works." -- Wikipedia

* * *

_Thursday, June 12th, 3:45pm_

"Viradecthis Steiner?" The customs officer cocked his eye at the pale, brown haired girl, glancing over her with one eye on her passport.

"Yes," Vira nodded, biting her lip. She fiddled with the belt around her waist nervously. The customs officer raised his eyebrow, but put her passport down and stamped it.

"Enjoy your stay in Italy," he said, already glancing to the next person in line and handing her back her passport.

"Thank you," she mumbled grasping the handle of my suitcase and walking towards the airport exit, her heavy duffel bag bouncing conspicuously against her side. A foreign nervousness emanated from her; after all, this was her first time living alone.

She stood timidly at the side of the road, waiting for a yellow taxi. Her hand slipped inconspicuously into her pocket and fingered the few hundred euros in there.

* * *

_Friday, June 27th, 2:29pm_

Eighteen year old Vira shuffled through the notebook, keeping it at a safe distance from her coffee cup. Her movements seemed almost loud and clumsy in the small and quiet cafe. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out her cell phone.

2:29 P.M. Plenty of time until dark...such a pity she had nothing to do to amuse herself. The Universita' Populare did not open until September 2nd and she had no friends to visit in the small city of Saline, Italy.

The doorbell of the cafe tinkled, and Vira stared at the woman who had just come in. She had long, brown hair and the fairest skin Vira had ever seen. She wore a form-fitting long-sleeved blouse, and black dress pants. Black gloves covered her hands and her eyes were the oddest shade: a wild violet, as if she wore red contacts over bright blue eyes. The woman turned and smiled a close-lipped smile at Vira.

"You've got a good hand," the woman noted at Vira's immaculate handwriting sprawled all over the notebook. She smiled at the compliment.

"Thank you," she said. "Is there something I can help you with?" She asked, noting that the woman was standing right in front of her.

"Yes, _you _may help me," the woman said. Vira did not miss the subtle inflection the woman placed on the word 'you'.

"How may I help you?" Vira reworded her question. The woman's smile grew.

"I come here with an offer, Vira." Vira started when the woman said her name but could not speak as the woman continued. "But, this is hardly the place for it. Perhaps we can meet elsewhere in a more private setting? I promise; it will be worth your time."

Entranced by the woman's violet eyes, Vira heard herself distantly agreeing and saying the name of a restaurant she frequented.

The woman nodded once. "Very well. We shall meet there this evening at eight. Please, do not be late." With a last smile, she pivoted gracefully and left.

Vira could do nothing but stare in numb shock after her.

* * *

_Friday, June 27th, 7:45pm_

Vira glanced up at the clock tower from the bench she was sitting. Approximately fifteen minutes left until she met that mysterious woman.

What did she know about that woman, anyway? And how had that woman known her name? It wasn't written anywhere in the office and Vira was sure she had never seen her before. That face was unforgettable. Could the woman have been following her? But there was nothing about Vira that could warrant such an action. Could it be because she was a foreigner? An American? She was not well-connected. In fact, no one would miss her if she disappeared. Her blood brother had disappeared to Purdue three years ago, and they had never talked on the phone since. Her mother and father had been married, once, and that was when she and Wesley had been born. Then her father left her mother, and her mother left Wesley and Vira with their grandparents in America. Later in life Vira found out that both of her mother now lived in Italy, and her father in Germany. She had three half-siblings, two from her father and one from her mother. She had never met them. Every month or so, she and Wesley would receive two checks in the mail.

There was nothing about Vira that truly stood out, except perhaps her name. She had brown eyes, and brown hair.

_What could this woman, dressed in clothes that looked tailor-made for her and an air of power around her want with someone like me?_

Perhaps it was a joke. Vira would not be surprised to learn it was. But, remembering the woman, the power behind her words and the vivid violet eyes, Vira knew her decision was made for her.

What was she doing waiting for a woman like that? Right now, Vira needed a job. A job to pay for her apartment until the Universita' Populare opened in two months.

-

Ten minutes before eight found Vira seated nervously before the windows of her favorite restaurant. Different "What if?"s ran through her mind as she anxiously tapped her foot against the wooden floor. She played with the ice in her water before downing the drink in one gulp.

Vira drank half the glass and glanced at her watch just in time to see the minute hand jump to the twelve.

"Good evening."

Vira jumped at the silken, soft voice just over her shoulder and turned quickly to see the woman from that morning smiling her close-lipped smile.

"You're—" _late_. But, no, she wasn't. She was exactly on time. Vira swallowed the last word but the woman's mile spread, as if she had heard the unspoken adjective.

"How are you?" she asked politely and this time, when she spoke, the fluorescent lights caught on her straight, white teeth. Vira felt a sudden discomfort at the sight of those perfect teeth but she quickly squashed the feeling. Afraid of teeth. Ridiculous.

"Fine, thank you. Did you want something?" Vira asked, motioning to the waiter.

"I don't want anything, thank you. I'm not thirsty anymore." The woman laughed her tinkling laugh. She sat at the stool next to Vira.

"What is your name?" Vira blurted. The woman laughed again.

"It's true; I haven't introduced myself, have I? Where have my manners gone? My name is Chelsea." She smiled and Vira found her attention again riveted on her perfect teeth.

"Chelsea," Vira tried the name. "A pleasure."

Chelsea smiled, and Vira felt safe. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering what was so important as to meet with a stranger, correct?"

"Well…yes," Vira admitted, though she felt comfortable around Chelsea already. Chelsea laughed.

"I represent a group who requires someone of your skills. We're currently searching for an efficient and responsible secretary. I've been watching you for a few weeks and I believe you are precisely the person we need. You seem to be in need of a job --you've been looking for one, no?-- and need to pay your rent. Please, wait until I finish." Chelsea raised a hand and Vira quickly closed her mouth again. "We're based in Volterra and we will pay for travel costs. Housing, electricity and plumbing would also be paid by us. Your biweekly salary would be €1500. I do hope that would be enough to get you through."

Vira quickly did the math. If she made €1500 biweekly, that meant for a total of €6000 to be made in total this summer. _€6000 in eight weeks?  
_

Oh. My. God.

"God isn't the one giving you the money," Chelsea laughed. Too late, Vira realized she had spoken aloud. "But maybe He did have something to do in choosing. He is gracious, after all, isn't he?"

Vira could do nothing but gape at her.

"I can see that this is a lot for you to take in. I'll leave you my card. Feel free to contact me at any time. I don't sleep." She laughed as if at an inside joke, bid farewell, and swept gracefully from the chair.

Vira stared at the slim rectangle. A shaky hand brushed the raised lettering with Chelsea's name and phone number.

Her decision had already been made.


	2. Ignorance

**Ernest Glass**

Hair color: Sandy brown.

Country of Origin: England.

Birth year and month: June, 1756

Year changed: 1781

Position: Temporary member of the Volturi -- discovered by Alec in 1980.

* * *

_Monday, June 30th, 12:05am_

_Today is the last of June, _Vira realized, tacking up the calendar onto the wall of her new room.

_New room..._she glanced around the small, but beautifully ancient room her new employers --the Volturi-- had given her. She'd failed to mention that she was only going to keep the job until August 28th, but that wasn't relevant...right?

Vira was pretty sure she could walk out on the job whenever she wanted. She sat down on her new bed, sinking a good two inches into it. Her bed in her old apartment had been stone hard, and the whitewashed walls had been peeling and infested. In the Palazzo dei Priori, the walls were stone and pristine.

She lay down, and picked up her phone from the night stand. 12:05 A.M. She had to be up in seven hours to start work at eight...

Vira turned her head on a side. She had a job that could pay for about two years of college...she was grateful.

* * *

_Monday, June 30th, 9:03am_

_Oh, _Demetri thought, looking at the pathetic excuse for a vampire in front of him, _Ernest._ He glanced at the girl behind the receptionist's desk -- Gianna's replacement. Demetri was startled by how...different she was from the usual receptionists they'd had. She looked American, and had an aura of naivety. She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin -- not the tan skin and black hair so commonly found on Italian women, and on their receptionists. She looked over at Felix and him with something like relief on her face, until she saw how intimidating they were.

Demetri smirked at her widened eyes.

_

* * *

_

_Monday, June 30th, 8:27am_

Beautiful.

Vira sat at her assigned desk, her hands folded in her lap as she alternated staring at the computer screen and telephone.

The people here were _beautiful._

She shut her eyes; there was no other way to describe them. They were physically perfect in every single way..._except _for the eyes. They had dark, dark shadows under their eyes, and the way they stared at her...like she was something to eat.

She shook her head out of those thoughts. They were her employers; she had to be grateful. Chelsea had told her that there were over a hundred of them in this castle, and she had to learn all of their names.

"You _must _be as amiable as possible," she had said, "Don't wander around in the castle, and do _exactly _as you're told. If you don't, you could upset us." The sharp look in Chelsea's purple eyes was enough warning for her, and Vira had nodded her head.

Why did she feel like she had been _brainwashed. _True, her decision to work here and been completely spontaneous...but she needed the money, right?

Suddenly, she heard a crash from the next room -- or somewhere near. She craned her neck around the room suspiciously, looking for anyone who would come in. She heard nearing, angry, stomping footsteps and carefully leaned back against her desk, almost instantly afraid. Her hand fingered the touch pad on the telephone; was she supposed to call someone to alert about the crash? Chelsea _had _told her to document everything that happened and that Vira was aware of in a journal...

"Despicable fool," she heard someone mutter. She jumped up, not expecting the footsteps to appear so quickly, a journal in hand. A man stood in the center of the room -- the lobby -- his button-down cotton shirt untucked and molding around his perfect muscles. His feet were smooth, pale like the rest of his body; he wasn't wearing shoes. He was rubbing his head, his glistening brown hair mussed. His pants were brown tweed, like old-fashioned English attire. Was he British? Surely he lived in the castle; Chelsea had told her that visitors were almost rare. The man was muttering to himself, and Vira quietly placed the journal on the granite desk in front of her, trying not to make noise. _Is he drunk? _She wondered curiously...

"Madman, he is," he muttered, his brownish eyes catching Vira's. "Wouldn't you say?" He asked her.

Vira shifted uncomfortably. He spoke with accented English, unmistakably to Vira. However, he ignored her lack of answer and glanced around the room, before looking back at her.

"Say, you're not even Gianna? Amn't I foolish? By golly, I can't even _smell _anymore," he said, rubbing his head and looking at a baffled Vira. She raised an eyebrow to him, and he shuffled over towards her. "What's your name?"

"Mine, sir?" Vira asked, her eyes warily placed on the man. He seemed...old-fashioned. Almost as if he was from a different era. Anyhow, he was the first person -- apart from Chelsea and the cook she had met at breakfast -- that she had met here.

"Yes, of course yours," he snapped. "Who _else _would I be asking? Or is there someone else in this room that I can't see, eh? Has she driven me _that mad? _I could understand it though, if I am that insane. Hours and hours I've spent..." he turned away muttering incoherently to himself.

"Mine name is Vira, sir," she said uncertainly, her hand poised on the telephone on the first digit of the number Chelsea had told her to call if something went wrong. The man glanced back over to her.

"Vira, eh?" He turned back around to look at her. Even with his insanity, frightening eyes, he was _breathtaking. _Vira soaked up his appearance with her eyes, nodding her head. He walked over towards her, his hand outstretched.

"Well, Miss Elvira, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said. "The name's Ernest."

"Pleasure's mine, Ernest," she said, gripping his hand and getting a shock. His hand was _stone cold. _Luckily, he broke the handshake quickly, as if his hand was burning, and looked away. She cleared her throat, "though my name's not _Elvira _-- it's Viradecthis."

"Viradecthis, eh?" Ernest smiled --almost leering-- at her. "That's uncommon. Your parents must have been fans of the old Franks and other sorts. Afton here was a Frank -- one of the first _Germans _as their called today. I wonder if he knew a _Viradecthis. _Bet you could ask him, he probably did. He's a quite gregarious man, he is."

Vira nodded, grabbing a pen and opening to the first page of the journal, still unsure if she should report him or not. He was bumbling about the Franks, talking about "Afton" as he was a _real _Frank...the Franks had been dead for centuries...

"So your parents -- what _do _they do?" Ernest asked, looking back at her. "They're not dead, are they? Like old Gianna's. _Poor _Gianna. I guess she deserved to die...pathetic, almost, she was. But _so _obedient..."

"Mother's a lawyer. Father's a businessman." Vira said, writing down today's date on the journal.

"By George! Those are mighty professions. Weren't they upset when you took up this post? You don't look over eighteen..."

"They don't know I have this job."

"_Don't know? _Did you run away from home, then?"

"No. My grandmother raised me. I don't talk with my parents much."

"_Really?_ I'm sorry...my own parents were deceased the time I was changed. I guess it was good though, y'know? They wouldn't have gotten _all worried _when I was changed, and I guess that's a positive factor for you, eh? You were hopeful to be changed, and you think you have an advantage because no one's gunna worry 'bout you when you get changed."

_Changed? _Vira wondered, _is he just on his insane ramblings. _She started to spell his name on the creamy paper.

"I...guess..."

"You sound unsure. I wonder how you survive financially -- thought that's probably why you came here, for the money. Got any brothers and sisters you're payin' for, too?"

"No, I'm the youngest..."

"Of?" He inquired, leaning in to her.

"Youngest of two, sir"

"Two children only?My, that's the norm for this day and age. 'Course, this wasn't common back in my day --1760s-- and I had six brothers and sisters. 'Course, four of 'em died of the flu, y'know. Then it was just Richard, Susie, and I. Susie got married and left the family. Richard went to fight in the war. The war for America, of course. You've learned about it in school, no doubt, you're _American. _We were British. Dunno whatever happened to Richard...by the time I remembered him, it was 1823," he said, laughing at this. Vira nodded, writing down on the paper: _Heard loud noise from somewhere, and then met Ernest. Ernest is delusional...thinks he's from 1760s..._She placed her hand on the telephone.

"What're you gunna call for?" Ernest noticed her hand on the telephone. Vira jumped; she was caught.

"I...uh..."

"Oh, that's right! My bad, I must be distracting me from your job."

"No, no! Not at all. Go on, you were talking about...the 1760s?" She said dubiously.

"Yes, yes. Born in 1756, I was. _Twen_ty years before The Declaration was written, as you well know. Are you a fan of U.S. history?" He asked peering at her.

"Yes," she said, dialing the number Chelsea had given her. She picked up the mouthpiece and put it to her ear. "Not so much U.S. history, though. I've taken an interest in Eastern history."

"Ah, wonderful! I'm a huge fan of history, specifically U.S. because of my background, no? What's your last name, by the way?"

"Steiner," Vira replied, listening to the ringing on the phone from the other end. Who exactly was she calling anyways? Was this the number for security? She turned to Ernest. "Are you here to see anyone, anyways?"

"Me?" Ernest's eyes opened. "No, no. By jolly, I _live _here, Vira."

"I guessed as much," she said, before the person the other line picked up the phone.

"Hello," a deep, male voice came in through the phone.

"Hello," she said, her voice a bit shaky and quiet, as she hoped Ernest wouldn't here her report him.

"We'll be there," the voice said, and clicked the phone shut. Vira held the phone in her hands uncertainly. _Wait...what? Someone _else _is coming?_ She hoped it was someone _sane. _

_"_Well, that was a short phone call," Ernest said, making Vira jump. She hadn't known that he was listening in to her semi-conversation. She nodded slowly.

"You seem terribly jumpy," he said, standing back and looking around the ceiling. "Today's your first day, eh?"

"Yes," she said.

"Ah," he said. "Tell me, what prompted you to wor-" he whirled around as the door bust open.

* * *

_Monday, June 30th, 9:02am_

Vira jumped as the side doors of the lobby slammed open once again, revealing two tall, pale men. Her eyes widened, but not unjustifiably so. The first man was muscular, and huge; he would have been the envy of any pro-wrestler. He wore a gray cloak, that failed to hide his bulging muscles. Next to him was a leaner, slightly shorter --but still very tall-- man who glanced around the room and assessed Vira and Ernest. He looked into Vira's eyes for a split second, gouging deep into them, then looked away. Vira blinked.

"Something wrong?" The bigger, bulkier one came forward towards the pair.

"Felix...Demetri!" Ernest's eyes bulged at the two figures. Vira shut the journal that her hands lay on and looked up at the bigger man.

"Sorry, Ernest," Vira said uncertainly, glancing at the brown haired madman, "but..." she glanced at the two men --Felix and Demetri, "He...doesn't seem to be in the right mind...," she said, praying Ernest was insane enough to not understand he was reporting her. The bigger man stood back and laughed.

"Oh, we know that," he said, chuckling. The leaner stood next to him, silent. "C'mon, Ernest," he drawled, "Don't bother the new girl. Do you want to play with _Jane _again?"

At the mention of "Jane," Ernest's eyes opened wide, and he immediately --almost fell, with inhuman speed-- prostrated on the floor, moving, jerking unnaturally.

"No, heavens no!" He said, almost screaming. Vira bit her lip; what had she done? More importantly...what had _Jane _done to him? "I'd rather be _destroyed _than that. Please, kind sirs, no! I wasn't bothering nobody! I swear I wasn't! I ain't doin' nothing wrong, kind sirs," he grabbed the leaner man's boot, but he kicked him away.

"He wasn't-," Vira spoke up, and the three men turned to look at her, "He wasn't _bothering _me...I'm just saying, he thinks he's from the 1780s."

"1760s!" Ernest snapped at her, looking at her with new hatred and making her cringe. Demetri and Felix --she couldn't identify who was who-- began to laugh. The leaner man stepped over the crouched Ernest, his gray cloak brushing over him, and looked at Vira.

"He _is _from the 1760s," he said condescendingly.

"You and I both know that's not humanely possible," she replied. He exchanged a glance with the bulkier man, who spoke up.

"Have you been..._told _about us?" The bulkier man asked.

"Told?" Vira asked, baffled. "Yes...I think. Been told what about you?"

Felix and Demetri --she still couldn't identify who was who-- exchanged glances. _Been told what?_ She wondered.

* * *

**Ernest Glass**

Hair color: Sandy brown.

Country of Origin: England.

Birth year and month: June, 1756

Year changed: 1781

Position: Temporary member of the Volturi -- discovered by Alec in 1990.

* * *

Is this chapter better? Worse? Please let me know.

Ernest can talk to Vira like a regular person because his sense of smell has been so destroyed by Jane's torture...you'll find out more about him later. He doesn't hate Vira, by the way...in fact, he's going to end up being the only "member" of the Volturi she trusts.

-Claerie


End file.
